As they ran, the hitmen didn't forget to curse eighteen generations of the two battling killers.
Wasn't it good to earn money quietly? Why did they have to fight and kill? What pig teammates; they deserved to die.
At the same time, in a dark 6D unit in a six-story apartment building not far away, a middle-aged man in sunglasses frowned and thought for a moment, before he put down his gun.
He slowly stuck his head out the window and observed the police cars on the street below. He scratched his head in frustration. Would there be police officers everywhere tomorrow?
Thankfully, the location that the police cars were racing to was over two hundred meters away, or he didn't think he would be able to sleep.
He smiled bitterly in his heart, and it didn't show on his face. He sat down in an armchair in a corner and leaned back. He put his right hand on the coffee table next to him, still holding his gun.
A moment later, his breathing calmed down.
